


Colpo x di x Fulmine

by gomicchi



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Angst and Humor, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-25 10:57:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3807805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gomicchi/pseuds/gomicchi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gon and Killua lose touch for almost a year after a night together that neither of them will talk about. Alone and confused in the wake of his fathers death, Gon falls in with familiar but dangerous company. Killua falls back into old habits and clings to his quickly maturing sister for purpose. Both of them have fallen in love but it’s not ‘who’ that’s pulling them apart, it’s ‘when’.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. smoke x stone

When Killua picks up the phone and hears the unbridled burst of laughter on the other end it’s like the world’s stopped turning. _Again_. His eyes well up, his fingers clutch at the mobile, his breathing halts. Alluka looks up at him from the painting she’s been detailing, a thousand questions written across her face. Within a moment she has guessed the answer to every one. Killua however, can only stare at her in disbelief and try to force something to come out of his mouth. Unfortunately all that manifests is a haughty, wounded sounding _tsk_. _Damn_.

 

“Killu- _aa_! Can you hear me? Are you there?” Eleven months and three weeks. In that much time Gon had sent him two text messages and picked up his phone once. Gon sounded a little older now but no less himself, voice still full of music and possibility. The lilt of a joke, intentional or not, lingering on the tip of his tongue. _I can never tell if your joking or being serious._

 

“I-yeah--I’m here. _Gon_.” Killua bites his lip and breathes in deep through his nose. Alluka smiles, sets down her brush and squeezes her brothers shoulder reassuringly before exiting the room. After a moment Killua realizes he can’t figure out if he’s eased or bothered by her absence. _Pull it together, Killua._

 

“Good! _Great_! Listen to you, have you been smoking more? You sound different but it’s so good to hear your voice, Killua. I _miss_ you.”

 

“That’s _rich_ ,” He can’t help but snort back in what must be the most transparently immature tone ever uttered by someone over the age of sixteen, “Coming from a guy who ignores all my calls-”

 

“Aww, _Kil_ lua, you _know_ I-”

 

“-Blows off _every_ date we-” Killua fumbles around his pockets for his lighter and pulls a cigarette from behind his ear.

 

“Let me just explain the-”

 

“No way, you let _me_ explain-” He punctuates the statement with an angry flick of the lighter, holds the cigarette between his lips and lights the end with a shaking hand.

 

“Hey, are you crying-”

 

“No, I’m not crying! Fuck!” After a long drag, Killua closes his eyes and pockets the lighter. Blinks the tears back. Honestly, how pathetic. Sucks and blows smoke. To think after all this time he _still_ can’t let it go. He listens with petty satisfaction to the embarrassed silence on the other end of the phone.

 

“...Killua?” This is the hardest part. Gon sounds sorry. Hell, he probably _is_ sorry. _Right now_. But now is a temporary concern for people like Gon and it always has been. He’s sorry that he made Killua hurt- not that he really grasps the half of it- but there’s no doubt in either of their minds that he’ll do it again and again and again. That’s just his _way_.

 

Another drag on the cigarette. Another long exhale. Hell, it’s a sigh. _I miss you._

 

“...Yeah?” It rings in his head and he can feel the heat in his face.

 

“I’m sorry about last time. I really _did_ want to be there. You know that, don’t you? You’re right- I’m an idiot and probably a huge jerk,” There’s a self-deprecating laugh here that Killua doesn’t recognize but he’s interested in hearing the rest so he keeps his peace,”-but I want to make it up to you. I need to see you. Will you let me make it up to you… Killua? _Killua_?”

 

Gon drops his voice just above a whisper so it sounds confidential and sincere and secret and Killua doesn't even realize that he’s leaning into the receiver until his lips are brushing the warm plastic, cigarette burning down in his hand.

 

“I…” Killua blames it on the smoke he just choked down but damn it all if his mouth isn’t bone dry and his head swimming with lost words, “I don’t let people jerk me round, Gon… It feels like that’s what you’re doing...”

 

Alluka saved him in more ways than he can count. They talk to each other. Listen. She smoothes out his jagged edges with words and he holds her like he should have during all the time he missed. It used to be that the two of them together made a passable whole but in the span of just a few years they’ve managed to become themselves again for the first time. During his time with Gon everything had been so new. He was skittish and distrusting, freshly revealed to a world he had been taught he had no place in. But just as Killua had never been outside of his brothers influence, Gon had never set foot off of Whale Island. It had been easy for Killua to forget that Gon was discovering all these things alongside him. It’s because of his time with Gon then and his time with Alluka now that he can hurt and feel and _care_ without tucking it under his skin to rot.

 

“Killua. Let me make it up to you. _Please_.” Gon keeps his voice level but it’s still quiet. It’s still intimate like only he can be after so much absence. Killua has deduced that Gon inherited this trait from his father. This magnetic, instinctual pull that lures all walks of people like so many moths to fast burning candles. It’s infuriating sure, but more than that, it leaves an ache. On the other hand, Gon’s always craved that feeling of belonging. Of having people to look up to. Teachers, friends, even enemies. The space which in his youth had been filled with Mito-San and the woods and animals and saltwater had been over time dissolving like mist after dawn. Gon needs family and support and forgiveness and a watchful eye just as much now as he did when they were thirteen. After taking care of Alluka for so long, Killua knows he’s far better equipped to tackle that job now than he had been before.

 

“...How can I make you pinky swear over the phone?”

 

It’s starting again and they both know it. Killua knows it as the smile tugs at his lips in response to the still boyish giggle on the other end of the line. He knows it as he turns to the calendar on the wall and hunches over slightly to get a better look at it.  He knows it as Gon rambles on about dates and plans and other things long after Killua has stopped listening to words and meanings and started focusing on his fast, excited breathing and god, he can hardly wait to soak in that warmth. The ground is shifting under his feet again. He knows it won’t be all smooth sailing (when was it ever), but he can’t bring himself to feel daunted or regretful or anything but nauseous with excitement over the prospect of seeing the light fill into Gon’s golden eyes again.

 

 


	2. white x lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killua and Alluka discuss things like time and place but avoid feelings.

“May 20th. I don’t have to go far since we’re so close to the port already but he needed a bit more time to wrap up-... Well, whatever it is he’s doing. I’m sure we’ll hear more about it than we want to when the time comes.” Killua lets the yo-yo in his right hand lazily uncurl before snapping it back up again with unnecessary flourish. There’s a thoughtful hum from across the table as Alluka nudges Killua's abandoned cup of tea towards him.

 

“Just over a month, huh?” The sing-song tone in her voice tells Killua several things, none of which he’s too excited to detect.

 

“Oi. Don’t _look_ at me like that. And don’t-”

 

“Brother,” Killua shuts his mouth, crosses his arms and Alluka sighs, holds his gaze and plays with the ends her hair bashfully, “I’m sorry. I was about to start teasing you. You’re nervous though, right? It’s been a pretty long time… After  what happened I’m not sure-”

 

“Nervous?” He chews on the word for a moment, considers the implications, considers what _she_ means based on the vague outline he’s drawn for her regarding that incident and his feelings for Gon and what it _really_ means to him knowing full well.

 

“...It’s just Gon,” he concludes, more to himself than his younger sister as he pockets his yo-yo.

 


	3. secrets x kept x secrets x known

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killua’s only freaking out a little bit that they just have two weeks before Gon's ship docks. Alluka prescribes retail therapy- for both of their sakes.

“How much longer is this going to take?” Alluka picks at a loose thread on her sleeve before dropping her head into her lap. From behind the curtain of the dressing room she hears an indignant huff followed by a sharp intake of breath which can only mean one thing. She has that brief moment of clarity to prepare for the onslaught of her brothers over thought justifications. It's usually kind of cute and she always learns something but she's been sitting on this bench for over forty minutes and not even the voluminous cushioning of her skirts is enough to keep her butt from getting sore.

 

“Don’t give me that crap, you take longer than I do… How many jobs have I had in the last couple months anyway, _hm_? It’s been ages since I got new stuff and besides- oh _god_ , this is _awful_ \- I hate going into the city in my work clothes. Do you think this stripe thing is too... dated? I can’t decide if I like it or I’m _repulsed_ by it...”

 

There’s something about the way Killua opens up when they go out to do _normal_ things together that Alluka finds immeasurably endearing even if they can’t agree on anything from color to cut. The mundane, the domestic- it’s still a novelty to them to the point that they giggle conspiratorially when they have a sink full of dishes to do or Killua reminds Alluka for the thousandth time to make her bed in the morning, despite his own being a disaster of kicked up blankets and understuffed pillows.

 

“Stop staring at your butt and show me.” Alluka says into the folds of her skirt, knowing full well that Killua can hear every muffled word. She picks her head up as Killua throws the curtain back, expression pulled tight in an attempt at dignified, bored distress. Either Killua's gotten disturbingly good at reading her or she's letting her face slip because as soon as he catches her eyes the hand carding through his hair tightens and he thrusts it into his pockets, expression sour and cheeks burning.

 

"Hey, no-come on, now, Killu. It's just…I- What are the straps for...? And," Allua looks him over again but can't think of a single thing to point out that she likes, "Turn around- _oh_ , I kinda like the pants! Your legs look great. Bet you're gonna wear those weird shoes with it, aren't you."

 

Killua looks down at his socked feet and forcibly relaxes his shoulders. She doesn't get it, that's fine. It's nothing new, anyway. He has to smile at the nickname, though. It's been happening slowly but the split between Alluka and Nanika has blurred. Not in ability but in other ways that only Killua would ever notice. He can still tell when Alluka is painting versus when Nanika has the brush but he answers to a range of names that only sometimes depend on mood. He loves them both but, as always, the unknown variable in the equation makes him worry. What would it mean to have them be truly one in the same?

 

It's hard for him to admit but she's not a kid anymore. At seventeen she's more elegant and striking than any of the other women he sees around York New. Sure, he's biased but judging from the number of sharp young men coming around their apartment on a weekly basis, he's not alone in his opinions of Alluka. His favorite part of the screening process is when the candidate is faced with both Zoldyck siblings for the first time. Alluka sweetly chiding her brother for being too rude or too friendly depending on the guy, Killua narrowing his eyes dangerously. Most of the guys are so stricken by Killua's threatening charm or Alluka's storybook perfection that they don't make it past his first test.

 

When Alluka gets annoyed with him for it, which she frequently does, he shrugs and explains it away with an, "I have my reasons," or ,"he's not even good enough to clean your paint brushes, sis, chill."

 

He misses the Alluka who relied on him for everything after having gone so long with nothing at all. Who called him ‘brother’ and crawled into bed with him when neither of them felt strong enough to make it through the night on their own. Everyday she's one step closer to leaving him.

 

Killua blinks the threats of the unknown future from behind his eyes and looks over his shoulder at the full length mirror. The straps _were_ the best part- dark and mailable, crisscrossing over the pale, scarred muscles of his arms.

 

"Why do I even bother asking you? I'm getting it. Good for _tuggin_ '." He grins catlike at her and pulls at the straps around his chest for emphasis.

 

"Mhm. That's bordering on TMI." Alluka smiles against the back of her delicate hand. She plays along because Killua goes to such lengths to make sure she doesn't know. To keep it flippant and light. He doesn't want her to know that the last partner he had ended up in the ICU. Worse than the one before that, even. Deep lacerations, one or two broken ribs and a loss of consciousness due to oxygen deprivation. The morning after it happened, Leorio called her to fill her in and although he had been treating the injured man, it was Killua whom he was worried about. She wasn't sure how to breach the subject and time had gotten away from her. That was six months ago at least and she was almost positive Killua hadn’t been with anyone since.

 

“Alluka, do-”

 

“I think he’ll like the turtleneck you found.” She folds her hands daintily in her lap and smiles sweetly at her older brother before continuing, “then again, you could show up in _that_ thing, or a burlap sack, or those weird stripey pants, or nothing-”

 

“ _Alluka_!”

 

“-and he would _still_ think that you feel from the sky.”

 

 


	4. fear x and x excitement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gon has one last conversation with the man who saved his soul and probably his life.

“Always the sky, eh, Gon?”

 

Because it’s Remoh, Gon knows he can make the most of the time they have left together without tearing his eyes away from the sunset or the hypnotizing churn of frothy salt water behind dull propellers. They’re about an hour from port but the sun is heavy and low in the sky which means night has already blanketed the horizon at the bow. He can’t bring himself to look for reasons too fast, too changeable to pin down but he knows the Early Stars are glittering behind them against the soft gradients of purple and bluish black. His mind is calm as the far out waters but his heart won't stop pounding, full and excited. It’s only a matter of hours now.

 

“Mhm. It’s beautiful. I couldn’t do it justice when I tried to explain it to you. You know, Remoh... I always think of Killua when the stars come out. Every night. Do you think that’s-” He’s suddenly a little embarrassed so he laughs and runs a rough hand over the back of his neck, “I don’t know. You’re still too polite, you know I’ll just keep going unless you tell me to shut up.”

 

The old man smiles and braces himself on Gon’s sturdy arm as the ship rocks. Gon places his free hand over Remoh’s and traces the twisted, blue veins gently with his finger.

 

“Take out that picture of yours, boy,” Remoh instructs and Gon obeys the same as he has for the better part of the last few months. Before his fingers find it he hesitates. How arrogant he had been this whole time, thinking his habit had gone unnoticed by the old man simply because he couldn't see.

 

The photograph Gon pulls from his front pocket has countless creases, folds and tears. One corner bares the stain of a rare acid found only in the farthest corners of the Lupine Forest Range. Another a burn from the unexpected detonation of a Fire Fly on the borders of NGL. The color has faded from years of oily fingers and too rough soul searching. He wasn’t even there when the picture was taken but he’s imagined a thousand scenes, invented a million instances that end in a rare soft smile, a thick fan of eyelashes resting on high cheeks, a pale glow like a full moon on a clear winter night.

 

“Do you remember your first night after I took you on?”

 

A laugh bubbles out of Gon’s throat and he shakes his head. Even with his eyes closed, his mind lost in a tangle of memories, the photograph remains a perfect negative behind his eyes.

 

“Of course. I heard about you from a friend. I wasn't really thinking when I made it to you- just following my feet, really. I told you I was lost. I was lost... You told me to walk out to the farthest stone point and meditate in isolation for twelve hours. You said after that I wouldn't feel lost anymore, I would have found _something_ , but-”

 

“You walked into my home the next day, banged your head on the floor and begged me to let you stay," Remoh laughs at the memory of the boisterous young man with the voice of a cricket and power of an ox, "you said, ' _Master, I'm still confused_ '! I'd never heard someone of your strength admit something of that nature so freely. So, what had you so wound up after an exercise meant to clear and focus the mind?"

 

“Well…” Gon takes a deep breath and holds it in his cheeks before exhaling loudly, avoiding the obvious answer and the even more obvious point that Remoh is dancing around in his way, “I thought about myself and what... What Hisoka said to me. The things I’d done....My dad... Killua… _Killua_. I was scared.”

 

“And now? I can feel your heart better than my own. Still scared?" Remoh keeps his sightless eyes hidden behind dark glasses but the small smile at the edge of his mouth portrays a message more readable than script.

 

Gon ducks his head, grinning and squeezes the old mans hand.

 

"I've always had a hard time separating fear from excitement.”

 

 


	5. Dead x Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leorio is slightly disappointed to discover that Killua is the only person in his circle of friends who picks up the damn phone. Killua's temper is shorter by the day.

On the balcony Killua can lean against the aging brick, watch the parts of the sky not obscured by fire escapes and parking garages change and listen to short chapters of the lives of strangers. He can also smoke a damn cigarette without his sister tugging on his sleeve and stunning him into stomping it out with her perfected pout.

 

He's half listening to a heated argument about dishes, or cheating spouses or money troubles, when his phone rings. Grating and intrusive. A pain in the ass, but what if it's-

 

"Jesus, at least I know _one_ person who picks up their damn phone. Had to be you though, didn't it?" Leorio always talks too loud, but it's somehow worse over the phone. Killua holds the mobile a foot away from his ear and rolls his eyes as tradition dictates.

 

"I hope you have a better reason for calling me than crying about Kurapika again, _Uncle_. My time is expensive, you know." Their communication sounds harsh and aggressive but there's no venom in their words. Just years of the same stupid pride, the same routine. It's practically a joke to them now but they've gone this long without telling each other that they care and it would be jarring to do it now. So they stick to shallow jabs, empty bickering. The truth is that they've both stuck their necks out bare for one another in the past and would do so again without question.

 

"You're so full of it, kid. Don't think I don't know you've been playing with a rubik’s cube and chain smoking for the last five hours."

 

Killua coughs dramatically into the receiver, eyes watering. His lips pull into a self satisfied smile and he lets Leorio continue without further interjection.

 

"Brat...,"Leorio's voice drops enough so that Killua can hold the phone to his ear, tone notably more fond upon arriving on a worthwhile subject, "How's my girl?"

 

"Fine," Killua responds haughtily, mouth curling back around his cigarette, he gives Leorio allowances for all the help he's been with Alluka since they moved to to the city, "Nanika sold a painting to that uptown gallery last Tuesday, she was happy about that... Some guy came around on Thursday to take Alluka to dinner and for once _I_ had to shove _her_ out the door. Earlier that day she was on _again_ about how much she _loves_ you and wants to wait for you. Girls got _awful_ taste. And you need to stop _encouraging_ her."

 

Leorio brays in response and Killua feels his expression darken unbiddenly.

 

" _Relax_ , killer. I'm not _encouraging_ her."

 

"You buy her flowers, like, _all_ the fucking time!"

 

"Only on Wednesdays- what of it? She's a special girl! She loves getting them! You know I don't mean it _romantically_ , I'm looking out for her." Leorio speaks with his whole body, so Killua has no trouble imaging his usual habits of nonverbal communication. Big, steady hands on Killua's shoulders. A reassuring squeeze or a slap on the back.

 

" _I_ know you don't, but I'm not sure _she_ does..." Killua finishes his cigarette and sighs out the last breath of smoke. He doesn't want to bring up what's really on his mind. It's easier to talk about Alluka. It’s easier to waste time casually insulting one of the only people he really trusts. To push the things aside that make his heart jump to his throat and his stomach sink to his knees. He's resolute. He _won't_ bring it up. He'll just stay on-

 

"Oi. Gon's ship is docking tonight, isn't it? You're meeting him tomorrow?" The tone in Leorio's voice is strangely subdued, veiled even.

 

_Damn old man._

"Yeah, I guess... I’m leaving around eight... Why?" Killua lifts his shoulder to support his phone so he can stick his hands in his pockets. He sounds terse, suspicious.

 

Leorio can tell Killua's hackles are raised so he intends to proceed with caution. _Sensitivity_.

 

"Well? You nervous, or what?"

 

'Intends' is the operative word. He's still working on his bedside manner, after all.

 

"Why the _hell_ does everybody keep _asking_ me that? No. I'm not _nervous_ , I'm not _worried_ , I'm not some _stupid kid_ who doesn't have his _shit_ together. I'm picking Gon up tomorrow morning at the docks and nothing is going to be _weird_ or _awkward_ or _different_ so just let it go!" He raises his voice and almost throws himself from the balcony when he hears it crack on the last word.

 

"I believe that about as much as you do, kid."

 

 


End file.
